


my light, my darkness.

by lakshmi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other, and no this isn't a hadestown reference this time, i hope you brought um. tissues, i'm just already so fucking sorry for what your'e about to read, she/her wol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:07:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakshmi/pseuds/lakshmi
Summary: there is mutual understanding; if she’s naught to give, they will take what she longs to rid herself of. ( because, truly, it is all going to the same place. )reunion where one least expects it, really.
Relationships: Ardbert/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fray Myste/Warrior of Light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	my light, my darkness.

she’d been nigh unreachable ever since hades’ fall. silent, stoic; she could not hold a conversation nor stand to be near one when the voices in her own heart screamed so voraciously, drowning out any and all other noise.

the stone under her is cold, the wood of the bed frame solid against her back. gaze is drawn to the window, and the starless night around it. _it’s raining_, she comes to understand; it is the first thing she’s noticed in what she assumes has been hours now. an eerie calm has settled as a deep chill in her bones, the cold wind of coerthas, the waters of the tempest –

as soon as it arrives, it is ushered away by the clamour. the warrior rests her head on her knees, hands clawing at the stone beneath her form. breath does not come easy; she fights to keep from drowning, from losing herself to an abyss she is more than familiar with. they haven’t come to her thoughts in … _too long_, comes the voice.

as soon as she slips even a modicum too far, they aren’t far behind.

ghosts of hands settle atop her shoulders from behind, made of a velvet darkness she’s much longed for. fray is warm, grounding. and she, she is little more than a drowning dove, a martyr, once peacemaker. ( she’s always hated that title, how could she not? ) half what once was, broken, tired –

‘ do you ever stop thinking? ‘ they ask, and the warrior has no answer for them. they do not need one. they sigh, dropping gauntleted hands to her upper arms, grasping tight, releasing. ‘ were we not on the same page, I wouldn’t know what to do. ‘

they have a point; somewhere, she acknowledges the duality her very existence creates. to some, a hailed savior, fated to save the world. to others, she is no more than a vicious dog on a leash, a weapon. and to the ascians, fated to bring the very _world _to its knees. she does not consider herself kind, nor loving, nor sympathetic; yet she is called all of these things, told that her actions speak far louder than any words could. and yet, the warrior does not agree with these things.

she really is a hard case to crack, to the few that insist on scrutinizing her.

she still does not reply. words do not come easy, and she does not try; there is no need to, not when fray knows her so well. she eases her head back into their lap, one of their hands immediately moving to trace the line of her jaw, resting the backs of their fingers against her cheek.

‘ breathe deep. ‘ they say, and she is moldable clay in their hands. _i’ve – ‘ _I know, ‘ fray hums. ‘ it’s been too long. ‘ there is mutual understanding; if she’s naught to give, they will take what she longs to rid herself of. ( because, truly, it is all going to the same place. )

fray knows well enough her pain; they carry it too, cry her tears, bleed through her wounds. the burns from ifrit’s fire, phoenix’s blazing breath. broken bones, poisons, the struggle of her lungs under the waters of leviathan’s domain. even the _light_, the burning, electric, bone-deep _ache _that ripped through her too-small form; fray remembers that, too. _nevermind the helplessness. I wanted to help. I couldn’t. _they make a silent promise.

her chest rises and falls in time with their imitation. slowly, achingly, the tension releases from her shoulders and clenched fists; the tenderness in her heart will come later. fray leans down, tilting her chin upwards so their gazes might meet – and presses a hand over her chest, over that crackle of electricity that never _ceases_ its incessant beating.

they take, and the warrior relishes in the sensation. an old hurt is excised, some weight lifted from weary shoulders; she aches, nearly cries out with the relief it brings when the pain dies down. she turns her head into their thigh, breathing hard. their hands run through her hair, ghost over the back of her neck. they pull her back, far back from the brink.

‘ still with me? ‘ they say, but it doesn’t sound like fray at all.

one glance upwards, and the warrior feels a long suppressed well of emotion begin to overflow. she opens her mouth, tries to speak; there are no words she can find. his hands – _ardbert’s hands_ – move to cup her jaw when she turns to face him. he is _solid_, though residual traces of the light remain; she can only assume that much is her own doing.

‘ I thought you… you’d moved on. ‘

it’s what she says, but they both know it isn’t what she means. ‘ I know you didn’t come to terms with it, ‘ he says, gentle. ‘ but you never had to. soulmates, right? ‘

_soulmates. _she remembers. she always will; the warrior has always known him, in her heart. the confirmation by hythlodaeus dissolved the last of her reservations, opened a hundred more questions – but not about _him_. were she - _they _\- really one of the amaurotines, she does not want to think about the consequences nor the implications that suddenly apply; was she really that _close to the lord of the underworld – _

he says her name, quietly. she blinks. 

_gods,_ she’s missed his voice. she manages to stand, unsteady though she is. he steadies her hip with a hand, pulls her close. ‘ soulmates. ‘ the warrior says, quietly. ‘ right. ‘ it’s a careful thing, the way she finds peace with the admission of her own circumstance and his forthright speaking. she’s always trusted him, and he – even when they were _enemies_, he believed in her spirit.

‘ I’m here, now. with you. whenever you need me. ‘ he says, after her silence. he takes it in stride.

‘ I always will. ‘

her own hands move to rest at his collar, digging fingers into the leather when she can no longer hold his gaze. he is far from fray’s intense looks, but it is all a bit much. fray demands her gaze, understands that she trusts their bloodied hands to offer her succor; but ardbert is innocent, knows her _well_, but not soul deep. she imagines that will change soon.

truly, she thought fray enough. a darkness, the true manifestation of the shadows, to remind her of the balance in the world. of _her own_ balance. the things she deserves, the reasons to keep living. in honor of those lost, in pursuit of those _we can yet save_. a reminder of her own goodness in light of the blood that stains her hands and the mistakes she leaves behind. she is still loath to admit it; to admit _any _of these things. and to most, fray had not existed. her secret. her _soul_.

and ardbert –

‘ you are my light, ‘ the warrior speaks, almost unbidden. ‘ and fray – ‘ 

_and I am your darkness, _they say, amidst it all.

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy i just thought it would be cool if ard n fray and wol all held hands.. support me on twitter @opheliamardun !


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